


Bright Green Eyes and a Big Blue Box

by artandnerdery



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Doctor Who, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2014, M/M, cas is the doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:06:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2538773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artandnerdery/pseuds/artandnerdery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was traveling alone, rocketing around through time and space, when he decided to land on Earth. Earth, United States, Kansas, Lawrence, to be precise. Shortly after arriving he finds an oddity, and a friend. He strives to help his new friend and his brother, and in return, he ends up with more than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 – Searching for a destination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art Masterpost](http://dahliasheng.livejournal.com/1484.html)

Traveling alone was never his favourite thing to do. Thousands of years gone past and he had gotten tired of watching those he developed attachments with grow old and die. There was only so much a being with so much heart could take before exiling himself to a lonely life of solitude.

Castiel walked slowly around the console of his ship, touching each button, each lever, gently stroking them and feeling the life force emanating from beneath the surface.

“Where to next?” he wondered aloud, looking at the center of the console and tilting his head. “Perhaps another visit to Earth.”

His ship hummed with barely contained energy as a reply.

“Okay then, surprise me.”

With that, he pulled the large lever in the center of the console and the ship rocked as it propelled through space and time. He watched the display screen, the years cycling around, forwards and backwards through the time vortex. From 206 BC to 15449 AD back to 428 AD forward again to 2012 AD. When the ship finally shuddered to a stop, Castiel looked at the screen that read _‘Kansas, United States, Earth, 2012 AD.’_

“What a peculiar time and place to choose. I can’t say I’ve ever been to Kansas in all these years…”

With a flourish, he threw on his light tan trench coat and strode out the front doors. As he stepped out, he turned and locked the door to his ship, which had gotten stuck as a bright blue police call box from the 1960’s in England. He wasn’t especially fond of it, but seeing as he had no interest in visiting his family and friends to have it repaired any time soon, he just left it as it was. Not worth bothering for so little.

The only species in all his travels that actually noticed the form his ship had taken were, of course, the humans of Earth. Even in the far reaching future, the humans who had spread to different planets and solar systems and galaxies never saw his ship as anything out of the ordinary. But Earth humans always seemed to notice.

Taking long strides up the dirt path, he broke out of the green forest where he had landed and found himself walking along a highway. The signage indicated that he was in Lawrence, Kansas. Right near the city’s outskirts by the looks of it. A warm breeze billowed his trench coat about, and he opened his arms slightly to let the air circulate.

A coffee shop stood about half a mile up the road, and as he made his way towards it, a loud rumble of a car soared past him on the interstate, kicking up dust and dead grass in its wake. Castiel grinned at the ostentatious car, which stood out quite noticeably compared to the other vehicles he had seen in this town so far. He wondered what the driver must be like, so willing to have a car that stood out so brashly against the quiet cozy existence of the area.

Reaching the coffee shop, he walked up the three steps to the door and swung it open. The waiter smiled at him, and asked him what he would like.

“Just a black coffee, please,” he answered politely, adding almost as an after-thought, “In a mug.” After all, he did not want to repeat the experience of drinking from someone’s skull. That was just unpleasant.

The man nodded his head, his brown shaggy hair swaying with the movement and walking away towards the coffee pots. He heard the sound of coffee being poured into a mug, and soft footfalls on the linoleum floor, then the full ceramic cup on a ceramic saucer was placed in front of Castiel as he looked out the window from the small booth he had taken a seat at.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, you bet,” said the server, walking away and returning to his station to busy himself until the next customer walked through the door.

Finally looking down at the table, Castiel took hold of the small mug and brought it up to his nose, inhaling deeply. Shoulders relaxing as the deep aroma flowed into his nose, on the exhale he brought the cup to his lips and then took a shallow sip. The hot liquid slid along the roof of his mouth, spreading across his tongue, and he closed his mouth to savor the coffee’s rich flavour.

He went to take another shallow sip when he heard a quiet clicking sound, almost like a clock’s ticking, but this sound did not come from a clock or a watch of any sort. It tickled at his memory, he knew the sound from somewhere but simply could not place it.

Placing the cup back on its saucer, he slowly looked around the shop. It was small shop, only two other customers sitting at small booths and the one server were there. No obvious source for the peculiar sound could be seen, but not even one of the other people in the shop seemed to notice its existence. In fact, it almost seemed as though the other three people in the building had completely stopped moving.

Castiel stood up, abandoning his coffee for the time being, and walked towards the server. No sign of movement, not even a shift of his eyes. Waving his right hand in front of the man’s face, he closed his eyes and opened the flow of energy from his mind. Feeling it coursing through his muscles from the base of his spine all the way up his arm, like tendrils of freezing warmth, he moved his hand around the server’s head without touching even a single hair. All he could sense was void, deep and eternal, in the place where the shaggy haired server was standing stock still directly in front of him.

“What in the…”

Withdrawing his arm and closing off the energy once more, he took a step back to think. Just as his feet met up once more on the floor, the two other patrons and the server all blinked and went back to their lives as though there had been no interruption. Castiel stumbled back slightly, his brow furrowed and his hands reaching towards the table nearest him to touch, to lean on, to make sure he was still a part of this world. His hand touched the table just as the server approached him silently, causing him to jump when he spoke.

“Everything okay, sir?”

“Oh… oh, yes. Everything okay with you?” his cheeks flushed with the embarrassment of being caught hovering.

“Of course! Everything is always wonderful, how could it not be?” The server replied, his smile almost cartoonishly wide.

Castiel forced a smile, and returned to his seat, grabbing his coffee as he sat down and looking intently into the cup as he took a sip. What in the universe was going on here? Clearly his ship had picked up on the anomaly happening here, or he wouldn’t have been sent to this specific area. If only he could figure out what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [artandnerdery](http://artandnerdery.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2 – Curiouser and curiouser

After a great deal of introspection and thinking - and at least four cups of coffee - Castiel left the coffee shop feeling jittered, his spine fluttering with courses of energy.

Four cups of coffee normally didn’t tickle his energy into releasing, but apparently this coffee was stronger than he had realized. It took more of his concentration than he would have liked to hold the freezing heat within his spine, he did not like letting it course through his body for long. He also worried that his family might find him if he let it out for too long, like a beacon.

It was foolish, of course. But he had spent so much time cutting them out of his life and breaking out on his own that he didn’t want to let all of his hard work go to waste and risk them finding him. A barely restrained shudder threatened to course through him at the thought of returning home or being found.

Walking up the dirt shoulder of the road, he started to tense up, feeling increasingly stiff with every step he took, trying to use his physical body to contain the metaphysical one. Which, again, was foolish, since holding in that energy wasn’t something that involved the use of his physical body. He knew he needed to relax his muscles, but the dread of accidentally feeling the energy leak out kept him from trying.

The black car from earlier, from when Castiel had first arrived at the coffee shop, drove past him again. The engine’s loud growls resonated up Castiel’s spine and rattled him loose, causing his stride to relax slightly. The car rolled to a smooth stop almost exactly where he had been walking. The window rolled down with a quiet buzz, and a head poked over to the passenger side’s window.

“Hey, stranger! What are you doing on the side of the road?” the cheerful gruff voice that came from the car snapped Castiel out of the remainder of the mental haze he was in, making him look over to see who was speaking to him.

Short light brown hair and a boyish smile greeted him, and he returned the smile automatically. The driver’s green eyes twinkled and Castiel ignored the feeling in his chest.

“I believe that I am walking towards the middle of town. Is this the way to the local motel?” he asked, gesturing ahead of him, indicating the direction he had been walking.

A deep laugh resonated through the car, and Castiel felt his spine relax a little more.

“Yeah man, but it’s like ten miles up. Where’s your ride?”

“Um, it is parked a ways away. I prefer to walk around within towns, stop and smell the roses, you see.”

“Alright there dude, but I could offer you a ride? I need to drop by the coffee shop to pick up my brother from his shift first, but I’m going right back to town afterwards.”

Castiel thought on it briefly and shrugged.

“That is amenable,” he decided. “May I?” he asked, indicating to the passenger side door.

The man leaned over and opened the latch, pushing it open as much as he could from his seat. Castiel grabbed the door and opened it the rest of the way, sliding into the seat smoothly. That is, until his coat got caught on the door latch and he stumbled into his seat.

Untangling himself, he righted his coat and straightened out, determinately looking straight ahead so the driver couldn’t see the embarrassment on his face.

Able to travel through time and space, save entire races and species, and maintain a semblance of order in the galaxy; still gets his coat stuck on the smallest of catches.

He sighed at his own klutziness, even if the driver was kind enough to not laugh out loud. Pulling the door closed, he fastened his seatbelt and finally looked over at the driver.

The driver wasn’t even holding back a laugh by the looks of it, but he did have a cheeky smile gracing his lips.

“Shut up,” he muttered with all the vehemence of a human child, and equal forcefulness to boot.

And with that, the other man burst into laughter and pressed down on the gas, making the car start forwards. Castiel leaned back in the seat and hid a smile. Humans could be so strange. This one seemed less uncomfortably strange, and more… odd in a relaxing sense.

The black car practically sailed over the dark grey pavement of the road. The sensations experienced through riding in this car were drastically different from those he felt swirling through time and space in his own spaceship. Castiel couldn’t decide which one was better. There was something nice about the calm linear progression of being in an Earth car, particularly this car whose engine growled and whose driver sat full of confidence and comfort as he navigated the familiar streets of his town, but there was also something exhilarating about bouncing about through the time vortex.

Within moments, Castiel found himself back in front of the coffee shop where the anomaly had occurred. Not that anyone aside from himself had noticed. He blinked.

“Hmm… I was just here.” Castiel murmured as he watched the driver get out of the car and closing the door loudly beside him.

“Seriously?” the driver asked, leaning down to look over at him through the window.

 “Oh, um, yes. This was the first place I stopped in town, though the way you speak it’s not really in town, is it? Regardless, the coffee is quite tasty.”

The man laughed as he walked away from the car and into the coffee shop, making Castiel’s head turn to watch him.

“Though this may provide me some more information about what in the universe is going on here…” Castiel muttered under his breath as he waited in the car.

After around ten minutes, Castiel began to wonder if the driver of the car had forgotten about him and his vehicle. Ten additional minutes later Castiel got concerned about what was going on and got out of the car, and strode towards the entrance of the shop. He peered in through the windows as he got close enough to clearly see the people inside.

The customers sat in their booths, different from when he had left, new customers taking up different seats. They weren’t really moving much, but that was fairly normal. The server and the driver were a different story, however. They stood in the aisle of the shop, looking to be mid-stride of walking towards the exit of the building, frozen in place much like Castiel had observed before but much more obvious to the naked eye.

Throwing the door open, Castiel embraced the power that coursed up his spine and extended it outwards, searching for information or the cause of these apparent time freezes. His skin burned so coldly he swore he could see it changing colours.

The tendrils of his power were almost visible to human eyes as they swirled and searched, wrapping around the driver and the server. A deep breath in and Castiel pushed forwards to where he hated to go, guiding the tendrils of energy into the ears of both men. The same feeling of void from before filled the space within the seeking touch of his energy, but he pushed forwards nonetheless.

As soon as he had almost reached the power center of both men’s brains, they were released from whatever held them and continued of the conversation they had apparently been in the middle of when the attack had hit. They faced each other, and took their steps in tandem, the driver now wrapping his arm around the server’s shoulder in an easy-going move. Castiel had not yet been seen, and turned quickly to return to the car. He did not want to invite questions about what he was doing.

Whatever it was that was affecting this town, it knew how to protect itself and information about itself from prying visitors.

Castiel would have to get more creative to figure out what exactly was controlling and freezing these people, apparently removing their existence from the entire cosmos of time and space. He was fairly certain it wasn’t something he had encountered before, at least not within recollection. That fact sat uneasily in his stomach as he watched the two men exit the coffee shop.

He pushed it from his mind, and a look of confusion flashed across the server's face as he pulled the passenger side door open.

“Dean,” the floppy haired guy asked cautiously, “who’s the guy in my seat? Seriously we have talked about this.”

 “Can it, Sammy. He needed a lift into town. Found him trying to walk there so I decided to be a Good Samaritan and help him out.”

The server - Sammy? - looked at Castiel again, his eyes squinting slightly before widening in recognition.

“You’re the weird, quiet dude, right? Unusual fascination with coffee? From earlier today?”

Castiel simply nodded.

“Kay, well, you’re in my seat. Think you can shift to the back?”

Shrugging, Castiel undid the seatbelt and corralled his trench coat in one arm before climbing into the backseat of the car. He did not want another repeat of the stumble, particularly since now there would be two witnesses.

As soon as he had tucked his feet out of the way, Sammy flopped into the front passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

“Jesus, Sam. Can you not break the door when you get in, for once? Maybe?” Dean growled.

Apparently he was rather possessive of his vehicle, Castiel noted. He attached his seatbelt in the back, noting that neither of the two in the front seat bothered with theirs.

He was about to say something, but before he could, Dean pressed down on the gas and they sped out of the parking lot. Castiel tried to remember if he had seen the other man wearing his seatbelt on the short ride to the shop, but couldn’t bring the memory to mind.

The first few minutes in the car were silent, except for the deep rumbling of the car’s engine as they drove down the highway, until Sam leaned forward and turned on the stereo, making loud music that Castiel wasn’t familiar with fill the car as both men started singing incredibly off tune. Castiel couldn’t help but smile, lean back, and enjoy the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [artandnerdery](artandnerdery.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3 – Investigation leads to interpersonality

 

Castiel jolted as the car slid into a stop, his mind slightly hazy. 

“Dude, did you pass out?”

Shaking his head to clear the fog, Castiel looked over at Dean who was looking at him, brow wrinkled in concern.

“Apparently I am more tired than expected. I apologize.”

“Nah, it’s cool. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

Castiel tilted his head and pursed his lips. Dean’s laugh pulled him from his mind, “Don’t worry, we have an extra bed. Well… It’s more of a couch, but it’s somewhere to sleep. You down?”

“That… Yes, thank you.”

Sam climbed out of the car in silence, leaving the door open and walking towards the house. Dean watched him with mild concern in his eyes, then turned back to look at Castiel once more.

“Long shift I guess. He’s normally more of a chatty-Cathy than I am.”

Castiel continued to watch Sam as he got closer to the two story house, not speaking until he saw the door swing shut behind the brother of the man who had saved him at least an hour or two of walking. Stepping out of the car carefully, he pushed the passenger seat back into its position before closing the door and turning towards the house. Dean hung around after Sam entered the two story house, waiting until the front door shut behind him before walking over to where Castiel stood beside the car.

“Where are you from?” Dean asked, his tone strained in an attempt at casual nonchalance.

Castiel pressed his mouth into a flat line, lips pulled to one side as he thought. Answering this question was always difficult. How much should he say? How much could Dean handle? And how much would just be lost to him because of whatever oddity was happening in this town?

“Far away,” Castiel decided to answer, softening his voice at the end in an attempt not to sound too abrupt. Revealing too much could lead to him being chased from the town, especially a town like Lawrence where everyone knew everyone else. Experience guided him away from gushing about the joys of traveling as he did. He was tired of losing the friends he made, and someone as easygoing and open as Dean was not an easy friend to find.

A sigh escaped Dean’s lips and he looked directly into his eyes, the focused attention making Castiel squirm slightly. Frustration, concern, annoyance, and curiosity all cycled in flashes through the deep green eyes Castiel forced himself to stare into, his own blue eyes unblinking beneath furrowed brows. He didn’t want to lose his bed for the night but he didn’t want to say too much.

Moments later, Dean decided he wasn’t going to push it and changed to topic.

“Okay fine, so then what’s your name? That a safe place to start?”

Taking in a deep breath, Castiel nodded. “My name is Castiel.”

“Cas-teel?” Dean attempted. Hearing humans speak his name was always interesting, Castiel mused, and Dean was no exception. He smirked.

“Not quite. More like Cas-tee-elle,” he tried to sound out, enunciating each syllable carefully, breaking it down by human sounds. Dean looked focused as he listened intently, his gaze having moved down from Castiel’s eyes to the movement of his lips.

“Ah! Castiel, okay. That’s a mouthful,” an impish smirk crept onto Dean’s face.

Castiel almost – almost! – blushed at the innuendo. He may not be human, but he had certainly spent enough time around them to pick up on some of the finer aspects of communication. Especially when it pertained to sexuality, as he found that humans tended to be quite the sexual beings. It had been perplexing at first to say the least, but a few thousand years of experience had increased his comprehension of the subject.

“And you are Dean, correct?” Dean nodded. “And that,” he said, pointing towards the long shut door, “is Sam, your brother.”

Dean smiled as he continued nodding. Castiel averted his eyes, feeling his hearts beating incrementally faster with each moment he looked at Dean’s lightly freckled face.

“Small world, you being in the shop my brother works at. I’d be kinda weirded out if this wasn’t such a small town. Not many coffee shops around.”

“Yes, very small world. It was good coffee though. It’s hard to find good coffee in this galaxy.”

Dean let out another one of his deep belly laughs, making Castiel furrow his eyebrows in confusion. He didn’t understand what was so funny about coffee, but Dean would laugh every single time he mentioned it.

He cleared his throat and decided to ask, “Can you tell me what is so funny about coffee?”

The laughter deepened, and when Castiel looked closer, he could swear he saw tears threatening to escape from Dean’s crinkled eyes. Dean’s freckles, Castiel noticed, became more prominent as his cheeks took on a rosy tint with each full laugh.

“You just-” he wheezed out between laughs, “you just sound so… _intense_. About coffee!” and with that he forced in a deep breath and chuckled emphatically a few more times before pressing his lips together and smiling.

Castiel just shrugged and waved his right arm towards the front door, “Can you show me where I’ll be sleeping?”

“Yeah, alright. Come on.”

Dean walked up to the front door, Castiel keeping stride behind him. He had been walking a bit too closely, however, because when Dean stopped briefly to pull the door open Castiel stumbled into him and almost made Dean smack his face on the out-swinging door.

“Ow, son of a…”

“Sorry! I am so sorry… Are you…”

“Yeah I’m fine, just… back off a bit, okay? Personal space, that a thing you know about?” Dean’s frustration was almost tangible, cheeks a deep red and eyes moving, an exaggerated attempt at avoiding making eye contact. Castiel took a few steps back and decided to avoid eye contact for the time being, his stomach feeling like he’d been punched by a Sontaran both out of guilt at upsetting Dean, and frustration at himself for forgetting social normalities of human behavior.

“Of course, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [artandnerdery](http://artandnerdery.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4 – Looks like nothing but isn’t

After Dean had taken off his boots and shucked off his well-worn brown leather jacket, he strode quietly to the fridge and grabbed a beer from within, twisting off the cap with his hand covered with the lower edge of his green plaid button-up shirt, and tossing the discarded bottle cap into the sink as he brought the cold bottle to his lips.

Castiel stood quietly by the door, shoes still tied and trench coat still hanging loosely on his shoulders. He shifted slightly, his feet throbbing as a reminder of all the walking he had done today. Dean heard the floorboards creak and looked towards the awkward figure of the, well, the stranger he had brought into his home, and he almost spat out the swig of beer in his mouth.

He swallowed, and cleared his throat. “You gonna come in and stay awhile, or just stand there like you’re a damn mannequin?” As he spoke, he swung his arm outwards, indicating the empty living area and kitchen.

Castiel shuffled uncomfortably again before he bent down to undo his shoelaces, removing his shoes and placing them next to Dean’s. Sliding his trench coat off his shoulders, he hung it over one arm and ran the other hand through his hair, exhaling in hopes of relieving the tension he still felt.

He flexed and extended his toes multiple times and tried to relieve some of the throbbing. The action was not effective however, as he was still standing upright. Heading towards the brown couch in the living area, he noted that there was not much in the way of furniture in this house and not much in the way of trinkets or decorations either. He draped his trench coat evenly across the back of the couch, his hand lingering briefly on the fabric.

Sitting down, he lifted his feet up and placed them gingerly on the small table in front of the couch, closed his eyes and resumed moving his toes. Slowly the throbbing ebbed, and by the time he opened his eyes again, he saw Dean standing exactly where he had been, about to take another sip from the bottle of beer. But he was not moving, and upon closer inspection he wasn’t even breathing.

Castiel sighed deeply, and embraced his power once more, moving quickly to inspect this strangeness, hoping to catch whatever it was off-guard before it released its grip on Dean’s existence once more.

The tendrils of Castiel’s energy moved quickly along Dean’s skin, and felt nothing unusual. Felt nothing, in actuality, which was unusual in and of itself. Castiel braced himself emotionally, and pressed two of the tendrils within Dean’s mind, expecting a flood of thoughts and memories that would overwhelm his consciousness. However, once more, there wasn’t anything for him to find or examine. His energy tendrils and their sensitivity to sentience and natural power sensed… nothing. As if there was not a person standing in front of him at all.

He furrowed his brows together and released his tendrils of energy, drawing them back into his spine and locking them within himself. How could someone be affected by something, which subsequently made them basically not exist?

An idea suddenly struck him. Castiel stood up immediately, ignoring the stabbing pains that wrapped around his feet. With long strides he moved around the house, searching for the other person he knew was somewhere within the walls.

The only person who had always been present when the time freezes - and apparently existence erasing moments - had occurred. He didn’t speak, trying to avoid making noise in case whatever being that was causing these freezes was capable of hearing. He released his energy once more, holding still and barely breathing, and attempted to spread it throughout the house as though it were a blanket of soft burning cold. It was not as effective as using the individual strands of energy, but he just needed to find Sam first, not inspect the occurrence deeply. Not yet, anyway.

A distinct lack of substance caught Castiel’s attention, upstairs and within a small room. Where there was something in all other space in the house, excluding where Dean’s body was still frozen, there was an identical patch of nothing in that small room. He dashed up the stairs, the balls of his feet padding the noise of his footfalls, and he prayed for quiet floorboards. Withdrawing his energy from the house, he held it close to him, breathing slowly and feeling the quadruple heartbeat thrum through both his body and his power.

As he approached the doorway to the small room where… nothing… was, he inhaled and turned to look within the room. Sam sat on his small bed, which was way too short for someone of his stature and looked as though it had been repainted multiple times. He was frozen in place, midway through removing his left sock, and Castiel pushed outwards with his energy, tendrils reaching Sam in milliseconds and entering his mind, not even taking the time to brace himself for the potential onslaught of humanity.

The being that was causing these moments was, gratefully, caught completely unawares, having believed itself ignored. Castiel caught it, his tendrils of energy wrapping it up tightly within Sam’s mind. It was small, physically speaking; the approximate size of a pinky finger on a young child. But the psychic power it possessed was impressive, even to Castiel. It pressed against the energy enveloping it, it pulled against the binds, it tried to absorb the tendrils, all in a desperate attempt to free itself.

Unsure of whether or not it could speak telepathically, Castiel spoke aloud to the being.

“What are you? Why are you in this human’s brain?” he demanded.

His tendrils thrummed with the energy from the being as it sent words through the crackling cold encasing it.

_I am Serasi, of the symbiotic race Yprys, or as the human tongue may say, Time Symbiotes. My race is related, distantly, to the Ambition Parasites of Esto. I am simply trying to exist. Trying to get by without the rest of my family and my race._

Castiel squinted, his eyes betraying his suspicion at the words.

“Where is the rest of your race, your family? Why are you on this planet? This is a type 5 planet; no parasitic races are permitted in the minds of the inhabitants of this planet.”

_They are gone, lost in the Purging of Minds of planet Aeries in a nearby galaxy. They were discovered and therefore were cast out. Symbiosis was unwanted, once our hosts became aware of our existence. I have nowhere else to go, I cannot survive outside and my craft was destroyed upon landing. And parasitic is an insult! We are not parasites!_

“What is it that you do, then? Why does the time stop for the humans in proximity?”

_That is how I feed, I try to do it sparingly. There are too many people even in this small town of this planet, and if I am not careful I will be found. I need to eat, I cannot survive._

“You are evading the question, why does the time stop?”

_It doesn’t. It is just gone. It fuels my existence._

“That is absolutely parasitic, you are taking away existence from the so called other half of your symbiosis! That is not symbiosis, symbiotes give and take. You are just taking. Get out of this human!”

_I will not and you cannot make me. Survival is the ultimate requirement, and I will survive._

Frustrated, Castiel slammed his hand into the door frame, cracking the wood slightly. He felt his energy snap out of Sam’s body and moved quickly out of the doorway. Taking the stairs down two at a time, he threw the front door open and stormed out. Walking around the house, he forced himself to breathe, forcing himself to remember that he cannot just fix everything; he cannot force a creature to defy its most basic instinct.

He would have to find another way to rid Sam of that parasite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [artandnerdery](http://artandnerdery.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5 – The Cold Hard Truth

Dean finished his beer with a final swig and slid the bottle into the half empty case beside the fridge. He walked over to the couch, and went to plop himself down next to the stranger Castiel. A surprised sound came out of his mouth as he realized that Castiel was no longer on the couch, just a tan trench coat hung over the back of the seat where he had been.

“Weird… wasn’t he just there?” he mumbled to himself.

He scratched the back of his head and looked around, confusion clear on his face. A flash of movement caught his eye through the window out the back of the house. He strode quickly over to the window and looked out, but saw nothing.

“Okay seriously, what the hell?” his voice nearly echoed through the vacant room as he turned back towards the living room. Another flash of movement out the front window across from the couch, this time Dean was able to make out that it was a man, dark hair, light skin, wearing a black suit.

Castiel.

“What the actual fuck?”

He opened the back door, and stood outside. Castiel was walking towards him, not looking at anything in particular, apparently mumbling to himself.

“Ca- Caste- Damnit! Cas!”

Castiel was jolted from his daze, his breathing having returned to a normal rate and his footsteps slowed from a rampaging stride to a comfortable stroll.

“What did you just call me?”

“Whatever, it got your attention. What the hell are you doing? How did you get out here without making a sound?”

“Many questions Dean, I don’t have answers for them all. Not any answers that would make any logical sense to you.”

“I don’t give a hairy ass about logical, I want to know how the hell you did that. Are you some kind of mutant?”

Dean’s green eyes sparked with frustration and confusion, and Castiel watched the emotions fly through Dean’s eyes and facial expressions as he yelled.

Brushing his fingers through his messy hair, made worse by walking at the speed he had been and by grabbing at it while he was theorizing and hypothesizing.

“Alright Dean. But you have to… Never mind. If you kick me out afterwards, I will understand.”

Dean scrubbed at his face with his palms as Castiel entered the house, and then followed after the odd man who now had bright green grass stains on the bottom of his socks. Castiel sat back down on the couch, almost exactly where he had been sitting before the whole ordeal had happened, and Dean chose instead to sit on the table where Castiel had almost considered placing his feet once more.

“Alright, tall, dark, and freakin’ weird. Talk.”

“Okay… well… I am not from here.”

“No freaking shit, man, at least one other person in this town would have known you if you were.”

“No… no, I mean I’m not from here, from Earth. I’m from… a different planet. Kind of like Earth, but… not.”

“Mmhmm…” Dean’s face expressed all the disbelief that the man was feeling

“And, well, I came here just to visit. To check in on humanity and to make sure there were no dangers. Which it had originally seemed that there were not. However, I was wrong. There is something wrong. Specifically around here. Specifically,” he hesitated, looking up at Dean’s face before saying carefully, “with Sam.”

Dean’s face contorted in anger. “There is _nothing_ wrong with Sam! Why does everyone keep telling me that there’s something wrong with my brother! He’s just a freaking teenager, for Christ’s sake!”

“No, Dean, you misunderstand! I don’t mean something specifically wrong _with him_ … I mean that there is something inside of him that is having a negative effect on the world around him.”

Dean’s mouth curled into a snarl and he swung his fist back, aiming for Castiel’s face. Ducking just in time, Castiel put up his hands.

“This language does not permit adequate explanation, the words are clumsy. Please, wait!”

Dean pulled his arm back, and swung it again, hitting Castiel’s forearm. His fist did not move Castiel, however, and he pulled his hand back. A look of pain crossed his face, and he clenched and relaxed his fist, shaking it slightly.

“I am sorry. I do not want to hurt you. Please, can I try to explain in my own way?”

Suspicion slid through Dean’s eyes and joined the anger and hurt that was already there. Dean wasn’t oblivious though, he realized that a direct physical attack was not going to do anything except hurt himself. He nodded tersely.

“Last chance.”

Castiel nodded in affirmation, and closed his eyes. He stretched his neck muscles and relaxed his arms back down to his sides. Once he had relaxed fully, he released his energy from his spine and stretched it outwards in a haze on the exterior of his body.

A sharp intake of breath told Castiel that Dean was noticing something, but he wanted to explain to him in the only way he knew how. His energy condensed into tendrils, he felt the burning cold coursing through his body, up and down his spine, down his fingers and through the tips of them as he reached one hand towards Dean.

He opened his eyes to see Dean, wide eyed and body frozen in shock. Normally humans couldn’t see the energy that coursed through his body, but he was forcing it to materialize so Dean could witness it.

“Buh… Blue? Wh-“ Dean’s voice cut out mid stutter.

His extended hand pressed forwards, Castiel now sitting up straighter and leaning forwards. He pressed his icy hot palm onto Dean’s cheek, his finger stretching out and lying flat onto the rough skin of his temple and curled up around his ear. Once full contact was made, he pushed the energy through his palm and fingertips and into Dean’s mind, into his ocular and auditory receptors, relaying the events that had occurred since he had arrived.

He felt Dean’s entire body stiffen as he watched and heard things that he had not personally experienced. Looking towards Dean’s fists, he saw them clenching and releasing, in sync with the oddities that were being experienced by his mind and senses against the natural order. Guilt sat heavy in his stomach, his knowledge of how uncomfortable and disorienting this experience could be threatening to pull his hand back and to run away.

Once he had relayed the knowledge that was necessary for Dean’s comprehension of both who and what Castiel was, as well as the situation with his own brother, Castiel removed his hand from Dean’s face and leaned back. He withdrew the tendrils of energy back up his arms, back into his spine, and closed his eyes, breathing deeply to calm his own mind.

As the shock wore off of Dean, he started making indecipherable noises. His brain worked hard to process everything that had just been… placed… in his mind. Placed, as in: put there externally. Dean’s head started to spin, his stomach twisting in knots as he tried to comprehend it.

“Did you just… freaking Vulcan mind meld me? What the hell? That’s not explaining in your own way! That’s putting your own damn memories and thoughts into MY head! Jesus harebrained Christ, Cas!”

Dean’s rage only continued to build, and Castiel held out his hands, eye wide, and attempted to speak.

“Dean, please. Dean, what about Sam? Dean!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [artandnerdery](http://artandnerdery.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6 – Strange Keeps Getting Stranger

At the mention of his brother’s name, Dean stopped the increasing crescendo of his verbal frustration. He buried his face in his hands and scrubbed, as though trying to scrub the anger away temporarily. He stored it away, choosing to focus on the situation with his brother instead of lashing out at Castiel.

“Right, Sam. Shit, Cas what are we going to do about Sam?”

“I’m not sure yet, Dean, I’ve never encountered this specific type of brain parasite.”

“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwaitwait…” Dean’s voice tumbled together in an excited slur, causing Castiel to look at his face in wonder. “In that… memory thing… you did to me, didn’t the parasite or whatever say that his kind was cast out once they-“

“Once the host was made aware of their existence, yes. You were hard to convince, how do you propose doing it to the person it is affecting?”

“Shit,” Dean says, exhaling his breath in a sigh with that one spoken word. He twined his fingers together and leaned forward on his elbows, forehead pressing into his knuckles. He looks up at Castiel and narrows his eyes. “Don’t think I’m just going to get over your freaking mind intrusion, by the way. After we fix Sam, you and I are going to have words.”

“Of course, Dean.”

Dean nodded and placed his head back down, pursing his lips and wrinkling his brow. Castiel looked at the palms of his hands resting on his lap, analyzing the lines that crisscross through them, his mind whirling around trying to think of solutions. The two of them were still seated across from each other, Dean still perched on the small table in front of the couch, when Sam came downstairs and walked towards the fridge.

“What the- What are you guys doing? I can’t believe _I’m_ the one they call a freak around here,” Sam said drily, the layer of sarcasm that flooded the last sentence snapped Dean’s attention to him.

“You are not a freak, Sammy.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say, Dean. Want another beer?”

Dean stood up and walked over to where Sam was standing by the fridge, reaching inside it and taking out two bottles of beer before proceeding to open them with a quick twist of his wrists and handing one over to Sam.

“What. I thought I was ‘too young to drink this shit’?”

“Shit happens. And you are. Today just happens to be a lucky exception for your nerdy ass. Be grateful, or I’ll take it back!”

“No!” Sam screamed playfully, fake-running around as Dean pursued him slowly.

Castiel looked up and watched the odd scene play out. “Humans are so odd,” he muttered quietly under his breath. Sam sat down on the couch next to Castiel and looked right into his eyes.

“Sorry for being such a jerk earlier. Work is exhausting and…”

“No apology necessary. I am glad you’re feeling better.”

A wide smile crept up Sam’s cheeks, and he looked straight ahead, taking a big swig out of the brown bottle Dean had handed him.

“Dean, I don’t know how you drink this stuff, it doesn’t even taste that good!”

Dean shrugged. “It’s an acquired taste, I guess. If you don’t want it…”

A laugh erupted from Sam’s mouth and he shook his head, “Nuh-uh. No take-backs.”

Dean smiled fondly at his brother, but Castiel could see the dark storm clouds that billowed beneath the surface of Dean’s apparent good mood. Clearing the storm clouds would permit them to talk more openly, and hopefully Dean would decide to forgive him. But first, they had to help Sam.

He cleared his throat, and Dean snapped towards him, conflict clear in his entire expression. Castiel looked meaningfully between Dean and the kitchen in what he hoped was a clear indication for the human to follow. He stood up and walked over to the kitchen, turning behind the small wall to block Sam’s view of him.

Hoping that Castiel had thought of something, Dean followed.

“He needs to know, Dean,” Castiel said urgently.

“I know, damnit!”

“I think that it would be most effective if I replicated the process through which I informed you of the situation.”

“If you’re thinking of mind melding my brother, you can forget it.”

“Dean…”

“I know, I know. I don’t know how to tell him so that he’ll believe me either.”

“If I get his consent, would you permit me to… mind meld him?”

Dean’s shoulders dropped, he felt defeated.

“Yeah. I guess, just… don’t hurt him. He’s the only family I got.”

“Of course, Dean.”

Dean could have sworn he saw the flash of a small smile, not of happiness but understanding. His anger tucked away, Dean felt a hesitant thankfulness that he would never express. He watched as Castiel walked back into the living area and sat back down on the couch. Sam looked over at him and continued sipping slowly at the beer. Dean followed close behind, entering the room slowly and choosing to hover over Castiel’s shoulder instead of sitting back down.

Sitting at the edge of the couch, Castiel looked at Sam and inhaled deeply before speaking.

“Sam, do you believe in… Aliens?”

“Sure, I mean, it makes sense that there would be some other life forms out there, right? Humans can’t be the only sentient beings in the entire universe.” He shrugged.

“What if I told you that _I_ am an alien?”

Sam burst out laughing, spilling his beer all over the table and the floor.

“Y-You? An… ahahaha… alien??” he snorted inelegantly and continued laughing, loudly.

“Shit, Sammy. He’s not fucking around,” Dean interjected.

“I can prove it, if you’ll allow me?” Castiel said, trying to speak louder than Sam’s guffaws of laughter.

“Yeah, sure you can Space Man. Whatever, prove it! Let’s see how cuckoo crazy you really are!”

Castiel closed his eyes, unaffected by the insults from the younger man, and released his energy into tendrils once more. He felt the exhaustion of it more acutely than he ever had, but pushed through it and extended his palm towards Sam’s face.

Sam, noticing Castiel’s odd behavior, stopped laughing and looked up at Dean. His eyebrows pressed together and he began to ask Dean a question.

“What-“

Dean just shook his head minutely and said, “Relax,” just as Castiel placed his palm onto Sam’s cheek. The freezing heat spreading as he moved his fingers around Sam’s ear and onto his temple. Blue sparking auras moved up and down Castiel’s arm and through his fingertips and palm as he conveyed the same information to Sam as he had to Dean. Sam’s eyes closed tightly and the bottle of beer slipped from his palm, landing with a thud on the floor and rolling away, leaving a trail of spilled beer, as his entire upper body went slack.

“Dean, there’s something wrong.”

Dean rushed over to Sam’s side, holding him upright. “What the hell, Cas?”

“I believe the parasite has shut down the processing part of Sam’s brain, to prevent him from absorbing the knowledge I am trying to deliver. You need to talk to him, wake it up, help him to access his memories. Please hurry!”

“Shit, shit, shit, okay um… Sammy, you remember when you were four and I tried to teach you how to ride a bike? You were a stubborn little shit, refused to even try as soon as I took off the training wheels.” Dean chuckled painfully at the memory. “I had to show you myself that it was possible.”

“Keep going Dean, I can feel him pushing.”

“Okay okay… What about when you got that acceptance letter from Stanford last week? I kicked up such a fuss because I didn’t want to leave Lawrence, but I guess I should tell you my secret. I’m really proud of you Sammy, I always knew you were smart. But getting accepted into Stanford, and with a full-ride? Damnit, not even Mom could have seen that one coming!”

“It’s working, he’s becoming aware. Keep talking,” Castiel urged, “your voice is the only thing keeping the parasite from regaining control. I can’t stop it, not while I’m trying to share knowledge. Almost there, Dean.”

“You want to know the weirdest thing? When you were upstairs just now, I was standing over by the fridge grabbing a beer, and Cas was sitting on the couch. But then suddenly, he wasn’t! He was like, power walking circles around the house, muttering to himself. It was the weirdest thing. But then he told me the truth, not that I believed him. I mean seriously, who would have believed that? He Vulcan mind melded me, just like he’s trying to do with you right now, and I was pissed. But I’m also kind of glad. Don’t tell him, ok? But weird shit kept happening around here and I’m just glad I didn’t lose my grip. On reality, you know. Anyways, keep fighting Sam. Once you know about that bastard in your head, you can kick it out! You can be you again, not…”

Castiel inhaled a loud, deep breath and pulled his hand back, the blue sparking energy retracting back into his body. Sam’s head lolled back as Dean kept his body upright. He couldn’t hear Sam’s breath, he pressed his head into his chest, and he still heard nothing.

“No!” Dean screamed as he pounded Sam’s chest once… twice… and listened close again. A long, heavy silence passed when sounds of labored coughing and deep inhaling were heard throughout the room. Dean put his hands on each side of Sam’s face, holding his head up carefully while looking for any sign of consciousness. He felt something slimy against the fingers of his right hand and he pulled his hand back abruptly. Just as he looked down at his hand, Sam opened his eyes.

“What the f-“

“Dean?” Sam said groggily, his eyes bleary and confused.

Opening his eyes, Castiel looked at the brothers and saw Sam’s chest moving with breath. A final deep breath of relief came and went, and he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his forearms.

“Cas, what the hell is this?” Dean said as he thrust his slimy hand towards Castiel, a small worm shaped thing the size of a baseball barely wriggling in his palm.

“That, Dean, is the parasite.”

_Not… a… para..site… Sym..bi…ote._

“Sorry Serasi,” Cas muttered, his face twisted and his brow furrowed, “But no.”

The creature stopped moving without a further word, and Dean looked back and forth from Sam to his hand. His expression changed with each turn of his head between disgust and concern. After a few brief moments, Sam sat up straighter on his own and Dean took that as leave to go wash the slime and parasitic corpse off his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [artandnerdery](http://artandnerdery.tumblr.com)


	7. Chapter 7 – Can’t Get Rid Of This Feeling

“How are you feeling, Sam?”

Sam blinked his eyes a few times, the haze clearing a little more each time they opened, and looked directly at Castiel.

“I don’t know what that was, dude, and I don’t want to know anything else. This is just too messed up. I’m gonna…”

Sam leaned forwards and braced himself by placing his hands firmly on the table beneath him, attempting to use the forward motion to stand up. His legs, however, disagreed with the idea and collapsed beneath him, sending the boy sprawling forwards and into Castiel.

As soon as Sam had started to lean forwards, Castiel worried that he wouldn’t be able to stand up. Not after what he had just gone through, not after losing consciousness and almost dying. He raised his arms up and just as Sam fell forwards, Castiel placed his hands upon Sam’s shoulders and turned him slightly so he would land on the couch and on his back.

Dean heard the slight commotion and came running back into the room, his hands still glistening from the water he had been washing them in, a few soap bubbles visible on his palms and between his fingers.

“What happened?” The alarm in Dean’s voice was clear on his face when Castiel looked up, his eyes looking directly into Dean’s.

“He attempted to stand up. I did not think he would be physically able, but I managed to slow his descent and attempted to lay him down on the couch. This will be difficult for him the next few days. I should leave.”

Castiel stood up and went to head towards the door, where his shoes still sat next to Dean’s, when a wet hand caught his shoulder and he was pulled into a crushing hug. His eyes bugged open wide as he tried to assess why Dean was hugging him and not attempting to punch him again, when Dean spoke.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to help us, help him. So thank you.”

“It… was my pleasure, Dean.”

“Can you stay, for a few days? In case he has questions or needs some kind of voodoo alien martian man help?”

“I…” He sighed, “Of course, Dean. But I don’t do voodoo, that’s a human thing.”

Dean released his arms and Castiel took a step back, remembering Dean’s earlier vehemence on the importance of personal space. There was a sideways smile that sat comfortably on Dean’s face, and Castiel could not help but return the smile.

“Can you help me with him?” Dean indicated towards the unconscious form of Sam, whose breath was deep and restful.

“Help you with him how? He’s sleeping.”

Dean snickered at Castiel’s apparent obsession with the literal and shook his head minutely.

“We should probably take him upstairs. To his bed. And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he’s not small by any stretch of that word.”

“Ah, of course I will help you bring him upstairs.”

Dean slid his hands under Sam’s shoulders and wrapped his arms beneath Sam’s, entwining his fingers together while Castiel grabbed Sam’s legs just beneath the knees. The two men looked at each other and nodded before lifting in unison and heading towards the staircase.

The pace was slow, especially with Dean attempting to navigate the stairs backwards, but after fifteen minutes they made it to the top of the steps and into Sam’s room.

Once they had him placed on his bed, Dean threw a small, lightweight blanket on top of his shoulders and jerked his head at Castiel before walking out of the room. As soon as Castiel was on the other side of the door, Dean reached over and pulled it shut. The click seemed loud to the two as they stood silently on the outside of Sam’s door, barely breathing.

Dean exhaled first, shoulders slumping, and he walked down the hallway. Castiel followed behind, stopping in the doorway of another room and peering in after Dean.

Sitting down on his own bed, Dean leaned forwards and pulled off his dirty socks, tossing them into an unseen corner. He looked up and saw Castiel standing there stiffly at the door.

“Come on in.” Dean said, and Castiel stepped forward, looking around at the posters and knickknacks Dean had sitting all over the place. “Welcome to my humble abode. Do you want a clean pair of socks?”

Looking down at his own feet, he saw that his once-white socks were now almost green from the time he had spent walking around the house. They had also taken on a slightly grey-brown tinge from the dirt both inside and outside of the house. He nodded at Dean, and a blurry white lump came flying towards his face. He caught the pair of socks midair and held them in one hand as he looked for a chair to sit down on.

Dean rolled his eyes and shifted up towards the head of his bed, “Nowhere to sit but here, man. Come on, I don’t bite.”

“No, you punch,” Castiel retorted, but he sat down on the bed nonetheless and began removing his dirty socks. Once his feet were re-clad in clean white socks, he sat up straight and took a closer look at the posters around the room.

“These are not bands from the decades you grew up in.”

“Nah man, the best bands come from the seventies and eighties, even if they make stuff after those decades. Everything else is just crap. Here,” Dean said, leaning forward and pressing a button on the mp3 player dock sitting on the table beside his bed. The melodic thrums of a guitar came from the speakers, at first slowly and then increasing.

“Metallica. Anything from before St Anger, specifically... That album was just awful. Always relaxes me after a really shitty day, you know?”

Castiel just nodded and closed his eyes, listening to the instruments playing and, eventually, the vocals, as they flowed through the air.

“You’re something else, you know that?”

“Well… Yes? I believe we already went over this.”

Dean cackled and flopped down onto his back beside Castiel. He began humming along to the music that was playing, and eventually began singing the words softly under his breath.

Castiel opened his eyes and looked over at Dean, curious. Dean’s expression was calm, the lines of worry had flattened out significantly from when Sam had stopped breathing. His lips moving, whispered tunes coming from behind them, and Castiel focused his hearing towards Dean’s voice rather than the strange raspy voice from the speakers.

 _Dreams of war, dreams of liars_  
Dreams of dragon's fire  
And of things that will bite

Castiel was so focused on listening to Dean that he didn’t realize that he had opened his eyes.

“What are you… Are you staring at me?”

Castiel looked away, flustered. Human socialization could be so confusing and he often forgot that certain behaviours made them uncomfortable. His fascination with Dean’s voice and eyes and freckles and lips, however, was not one that he could just brush off as part of his basic human fascination.

“I am sorry, I was listening to you sing. You have a very comforting voice. I can see why Sam looks up to you and trusts you.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and his lips turned to the side in a curious expression. After a moment of silence, he sighed.

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t usually actually sing around other people. Mostly because they don’t appreciate the finer things in life, like awesome music. Their loss, y’know?”

Castiel nodded, and looked back towards Dean, making eye contact.

“Do you have any other favourite bands? I am unaccustomed to having music around, as it is not something that exists where I am from. It is soothing.”

“Yeah, got loads, hold up.”

Dean pulled himself back into a seated position and leaned towards the music player, fiddling with the display. The song ended abruptly, and another began.

“Led Zeppelin, When the Levee Breaks. Not that I dance, but if I did, it would be to this song.”

He began to sway his head and shoulders to the electronic beat, and Castiel watched, enraptured.

“I like this song better than the other one. It’s much less…” he trailed off, “I’m not sure what.”

Dean looked over at Castiel and saw his brow furrowed as he was thinking about the words he wanted to say. A comfortable smile crept out.

“You’re a dork.”

“Thank… you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [supernaturallyartistic](http://supernaturallyartistic.tumblr.com)


	8. Chapter 8 – A Nightmare Is Only Scary When It’s Real

The song ended, and Dean stood up, straightening his clothes and walking towards the door.

“Come on, I’m hungry. You must need food or something, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, his stomach growling at the mention of food.

“Good, you eat burgers?”

Castiel shrugged and nodded, standing up and following Dean out of the room. He did not follow Dean as he poked his head into Sam’s room before heading down the stairs, but watched his expression and relaxed when he saw a slight nod as Dean withdrew his head from the doorway.

Once they reached the kitchen, Castiel stayed by the doorway as Dean moved around with ease. There was a comfortable rhythm to the way that Dean stepped from side to side, opening cupboards and the fridge door, and amassing the necessary elements to creating what was to be their meal.

Dean had just turned on the stove to cook the meat patties when Castiel felt an uncomfortable static in his mind. He shook his head slightly in an attempt to disperse it, but it didn’t help. Pressing the heel of his palms to his eyes, he rubbed in slow circles, but that only succeeded to worsen the sensation.

“Excuse me a moment, Dean.”

He looked to check if Dean had heard him, and saw a sideways look and a nod. Taking that as a sign that he was heard, Castiel walked over to the couch where he had been sitting earlier that day. He was about to lay down on it when he saw a succession of blue flashes coming through the window.

Stepping towards the window, he saw three figures walking across the large front yard of the house, their shapes growing as they neared where Castiel stood.

Blinking his eyes to clear the static that had now spread and was disrupting his vision, he tried to focus on who the figures were. Instead of getting clearer vision, however, the closer that the figures became, the fuzzier his sight grew. His stomach fell, and his knees weakened.

“No!” he exclaimed loudly, before his vision went black and he collapsed to the floor, narrowly escaping hitting any furniture on the way down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [artandnerdery](http://artandnerdery.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter 9 – Flying is Definitely Worse Than Falling

Dean heard the loud yell and threw the frying pan onto a cool burner before running out into the living room area.

“Cas?” he called out, looking around the room before his gaze caught movement through the window. Just outside there were three figures, looking into the house, their gaze cast downwards to the floor by the window. Dean followed their line of sight and saw Castiel, his black suit rumpled with his collapsed form, and he immediately attempted to dash towards him.

He saw blue, everywhere.

He felt himself being lifted off the ground and his stomach curled and jumped around. The disdain and disgust from whatever the source was very clear by the emotion being broadcast through the crackling energy of his restraints. Blinking, at first softly, then harder, Dean forced his eyes to clear, to focus, to look through the blue cocoon that held him, tendrils of blue hatred holding his limbs still.

Through the blue haze he saw the three figures again, except they were inside his house. One of them, appearing to be male, was looking directly at him, eyes wide and harsh and his face contorted in rage. His black suit almost matched Castiel’s, except that it appeared to be in pristine condition, and his tie was a deep red. Dean’s mind raced, and he looked away from the face of the man that held him suspended.

The other two figures both appeared to be women, the one on the left had fiery red hair and a soft, familial expression on her face as she looked at the collapsed form of his new friend. The other, blonde hair and what appeared from the side to be a look of disdain and annoyance while looking down at Castiel prostrate form. Dean felt his own anger and frustration, and even a twinge of hopelessness and loss, and he cried out. His screams felt muffled within his small prison and neither female appeared to have noticed his outburst. What were they going to do to Castiel?

The two women joined hands and closed their eyes, and Dean watched as wide tendrils of energy moved slowly from their shoulders and down their arms, before linking together into a web and sliding beneath Castiel’s form. Moments later, he was encased in a woven cocoon, similar to what Dean was trapped in, except thicker, and woven, instead of being a flat bubble. Dean pulled against the restraints, and the male figure’s lips twisted into a combination of a sneer and a smile of victory. Feeling useless, Dean screamed and hollered at the top of his lungs, hoping that if he yelled loud enough, Castiel would hear him and wake up.

“Wake up Castiel!” he screamed, uselessly, the sound ending before the words even left his throat. Dean felt his body go slack in defeat. His mind reeled and tried to think of a way out, but his body had given up. The crackling energy increased in sensation and his nerves felt exposed and ripped apart. He closed his eyes and felt the tears of frustration and anger and defeat and uselessness overtake his body, each muscle releasing from tension like a compressed spring.

As soon as his body went slack, Dean felt the cocoon around him waver, and his body moved downwards. The restraints felt as if they were unable to hold him, as though he were covered in oil. He tried not to make a face as he slid out of the encasement, and as soon as he felt the last of himself escape from the cage he rolled quickly to the side, coercing his body and muscles to cooperate. He stood up quickly, and felt his head spin. He reached out to grab something, anything, to stabilize both his body and mind. The soft fabric of the couch grounded him, and he opened his eyes, hand gripping the arm of the couch tightly.

No one stood in his living room, and there was not a single item that was out of place. Nothing that would have even hinted at the fact that Castiel had even been there in the first place could be seen. He looked over at the door, his stomach feeling as though it was sitting on his feet, and he saw the empty space where Castiel’s shoes had been.

Shuffling his feet below himself, mind reeling and trying to rationalize what he’d just seen, he made his way to the window and looked out. He searched for any figure, any footsteps, any scuffs that would tell him that the figures in his living room hadn’t just disappeared without a trace, any indication that he hadn’t just imagined the last few hours in a haze of accumulated stress and driving and a quantity of beer he couldn’t remember.

As his eyes searched and searched, focusing on details near and far, his breathing came faster and faster. He was hyperventilating and his vision began to blur. He couldn’t see a thing, his vision still spinning from standing up and moving so abruptly, his unconscious mind battling his subconscious regarding the existence of the blue eyed man in the ragged trench coat. He leaned against the wall with one hand, brushing his face and scrubbing at his eyes with the other until he saw floaters in his vision.

“What the actual fuck just happened here?” he asked himself as he forced out the last of his breath in a deep sigh before drudging over to the couch and flopping down onto it. Had he just imagined everything in a subconscious attempt at reinforcing the knowledge he held dear, that Sam didn’t always act ‘normal and that Dean had to keep him safe? But then why did he see those crystal blue eyes and that wrinkled brow of confusion so clearly?

Once his vision had cleared and his breathing returned to a semi-normal state, he noticed that the table in front of him, the table that Sam had sat on and he himself had sat on, and that had most certainly been cleared of anything that had been sitting on top of it, had returned to the state it had been in before Castiel had come through the door. A closer inspection, though, showed that the newspaper that was rolled up on the table, Dean never having any interest in reading it, was not from today’s date. It was marked for Sunday, April 14th 2013, the day before.

For the first time since he had moved back into that house, Dean opened the newspaper. The first few pages looked like a normal, boring newspaper, nothing special or unusual. But once he turned to page 7, his entire face lit up, seeing what appeared to be a half page ad with Castiel’s face occupying it. He began reading, butterflies fluttering around inside his stomach.

_“Dean, I’m sure you’re confused, but I had to think fast when I saw my family coming. They’ve probably taken me, and made it look like absolutely nothing has changed since before you met me. This is to confuse you, and to make you think you imagined everything. You didn’t. But I will need your help. My family and I do not see eye to eye on anything, and they will be trying to find my ship to take it home with us. I need you to stop them, because I will likely be incapacitated. You can find my ship here. I hope you get there first. Please hurry. – Castiel”_

Beneath the advertising copy was a series of six numbers written out in pairs. Dean recognized it as coordinates, and ripped them out of the newspaper. He took long strides over to the front door and slid his shoes on. A thought flew through his mind asking why he was going to this random location to theoretically help some dude he barely knew, who was just a flash of blue, a trench coat that was way too big, and a backwards blue tie, but he ignored it. Castiel had put himself out there to help Dean and Sam, and Dean felt obligated to return the favour.

He was absolutely not thinking about how pleased Castiel had looked when Sam had recovered, despite the emotional toll that was clear on his own face. Dean coughed, and shook his head. Now was not the time to pay attention to minute details that would not help him find his kidnapped friend.

Wait, did it count as kidnapping if you ran away and your family came to get you?

With the scrap of newspaper tightly gripped in his left hand and his car keys in the other, he swung the door open and went down the stairs in two steps. Almost dropping his keys in his rushed attempt to stick them in the ignition, he got the car started and backed out of the long dirt driveway and onto the interstate.

“At least you taught me one useful skill, Dad,” he muttered, glancing at the coordinates.

Dean drove fast, going about ten miles over the speed limit, and got to the approximate place the directions led him to. Which, Dean scoffed, was just on the side of the interstate with a few dirt paths heading into the forest which had, on the other side of the thick trees, Oak Hill Cemetery. Getting out of the car, he looked to see if there were any other cars coming.

“Weird place to park a freakin’ space ship, dude,” he slammed his car door shut and headed up the dirt path that was closest to the actual coordinate location. As he entered the forest, Dean wondered what a space ship would look like. Would it be huge and impressive like the Enterprise? Probably not, he laughed, there was no way to hide something that awesome in the tiny forest in Lawrence. Various images of different space ships he had seen in the sci-fi shows and movies he watched (with Sam, of course, he was no nerd) floated through his mind and he discarded each one almost as soon as it came up.

This was ridiculous, there was no way there was a freaking outer space UFO sitting in the middle of the forest. It just wasn’t possible, he told himself. Regardless of how hard he tried to convince himself he was on a wild goose chase, the words, pressing and urgent sounding even written in print, kept him pushing forwards.

The forest had overgrown and filled in most of the headspace on the path, and weeds had begun to take up residence in the packed dirt which led through the trees. Dean kept his gaze halfway down, watching the ground for tripping hazards and keeping an eye on any branches that threatened to take out his eyes at the same time. Once he was deep enough into the forest that, looking back, he could no longer see the road, he took in a deep breath and brushed his hand through his hair.

“You better not be fuckin’ with me, mister…” His voice sounded muted. Even at the quiet mutter he spoke at, the leaves and branches around him seeming to absorb the sound as soon as it came out of his mouth. Dean glanced downwards again, but this time instead of leaves and weeds he noticed a boot print. He knelt down and put his boot next to it.

“Same size as Cas’ shoes, that’s reassuring at least.”

A few minutes later, he encountered a small unnatural clearing in the woods. Dead in the center of the clearing was a large blue box with a white rectangle across the top that said “Police Public Call Box” and the sides of which looked like the panels of a door. Stepping closer, Dean noticed that the side closest to him had what looked like a door handle. He reached for it, but the door swung open as soon as his hand came within a few millimeters of the surface. Dean startled and jumped backwards, before inhaling deeply and shaking himself at his antics.

“Get it together,” he scolded himself, forcing his feet to move closer to the strange box, shoving the newspaper scrap into his pocket along with his keys.

As he got close enough, he poked his head inside and looked around, his eyes widening almost painfully as his brain tried to comprehend the sight before him. Dean had to place one hand on the box to stabilize himself as his weak legs gave out under him.

Whilst the box, from the outside, looked to be about eight feet high, and four feet wide and long, the inside was a massive room larger than his entire property.

There was a large console in the center of the room, and stairs going both up and down from the main level. Pulling himself forward with one arm, Dean stepped inside the box.

The door swung shut of its own accord as soon as Dean had moved far enough in, and he absolutely did _not_ jump when he heard the bang of it shutting. He turned around quickly and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. There was a noise coming from the console, and the entire room began to shake slightly, tilting from side to side.

The noise coming from the console got louder, and the entire ship seemed to be rocking, and Dean was trying to hold onto anything solid he could get his hands on and forcing his stomach to stay where it belonged. Closing his eyes briefly and taking a breath for courage, he used the forward tilt to propel himself towards the console, grabbing onto the railing that ran around it just as the ship tilted back the opposite way.

Using the railing for leverage he hauled himself up and grabbed onto the console, looking for any indication of what was happening. The screen that hung just above his head swung as if holding on by a wire, and Dean grabbed it with one hand and pulled it down to eye level.

The screen was broken into a few smaller images, one of which had numbers in a sequence that meant nothing to Dean, another was a cross-sectioned photo of his own face and his personal identifying information on it, and the third took up a larger chunk of the screen and all Dean could see was space. Moving space, with planets passing by, and even the occasional asteroid.

Dean let go of both the screen and the railing and clutched his stomach, the meagre contents of which were threatening to make a very sudden appearance. His mind spun and his vision swam and he tried to rationalize what was happening, but there was no logical rationalization that made sense.

The ship stopped moving with a crash and a shudder while Dean leaned against the railing, his arms clutching his abdomen, his eyes closed, leaning forward and forcing himself to take slow breaths in and out.

“When I find him…” he breathed, “I am going to kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at artandnerdery


	10. Chapter 10 – A Mind Unraveled

Moments later, his stomach stopped flipping and his skin felt like it belonged there again. Dean opened his eyes and straightened out, stretching his neck and swinging his arms to bring circulation back into his extremities. He stepped away from the console, the screen still reading numbers that made no sense to him, and headed for the door.

Again, just as he came within millimeters of touching the handle, it unlatched and began to open, and he had to pull his hand back so that it didn’t get hit.

“I will never get used to that,” he muttered to himself.

As the door swung the rest of the way open, Dean peered outside, not sure what to expect. Whatever he had come up with in his head Dean certainly didn’t expect to find himself situated in what looked like another clearing within another forest, and certainly not the same forest he had been in when he stepped inside the box. 

The first indicator had been the size of the clearing. The second was the orange trees and their vibrant red leaves.

He stepped out, turning as his feet both hit the ground outside the box just in time to see the door swing shut and almost clip his nose. He brought his hand up towards the door to try and open it, but it didn’t swing open, and when he grabbed the handle, it wouldn’t budge. Dean was stuck here, apparently. He shook his head and looked around, scratching his temple as he tried to figure out what he was going to do.

“Thanks for the heads up, Cas, woulda been nice to know I was going for a ride… Jackass.”

He saw what looked like a small house, or maybe it was a hut, on the other side of the clearing, and figuring it was his best chance to get out of this mess, Dean started walking over to it. 

The ground beneath his feet was soft, his boots making no noise and leaving no footsteps. A slight breeze flowed through the air and the leaves rustled around Dean, making a noise that almost resembled a drum roll on the cymbals of Sam’s old drum set.

Dean smiled softly as he thought back to when Sam had found a broken drum set in the garbage dump and had begged John to bring it home for him. John had almost said no, but Dean had stepped forward and said he would borrow Bobby’s truck and bring it home. John had just rolled his eyes and said, “Keep it outside, my house is for keepin’ quiet and relaxin’.” 

Sam had jumped on Dean and hugged him tightly around the waist, and Dean had just nodded to John and said, “Yes sir.”

Approaching the strange house, Dean noticed that it wasn’t made of pieces hammered or welded together, like his house or any of the house’s he’d ever seen. It looked like it was all one piece, with no hinges, and holes about an arm’s length across placed at around chest level every few feet. There didn’t appear to be a door either, but as Dean approached, he saw figures inside the shelter and hid beside one of the empty window holes.

He leaned as close as he could without being seen and listened in.

“Why does he insist on running away? Anael, explain your brother’s actions to me, now!” A harsh female voice that made the hairs on Dean’s neck stand on end echoed out of the small home.

“He is free of spirit, he loves humans and Earth. I’m not convinced he was ever meant to replace father. It’s just not in him.” The voice Dean assumed was Anael’s was much softer, and he could hear tenderness in her words.

There was a moment of silence quickly followed by the sound of something hitting the floor and breaking.

“Why? I spend all this time and energy into his education, into molding him into the perfect heir, and I get this? This… Rebel?” The last word was spat out with such venom that Dean cringed and he heard footsteps inching closer to him and away from the harsh speaker.

“Please, He- Mother, let me try? I used to think I was meant to be free, like him, and I have come around. Have I not? Perhaps my perspective will help.”

“Fine. But I have already laid out the groundwork and cleared out his recent memories. You will be starting with a fresh slate. Don’t mess it up, Anael, or you will both experience the consequences this time.”

Footsteps walking away and then a strange rattling noise were all Dean heard before he risked a peek. Looking inside the small house, he saw the red haired figure from his living room. She was sitting at the corner of the large mat, looking down at the prone shape of Castiel, who was still wearing his trench coat and shoes. She was stroking his head and shaking her own.

“Why can’t you just follow the rules, Castiel? Is it really worth it? She will always find you…” Anael’s tender voice matched the tender and concerned expression clear on her face.

Dean sat down slowly, taking care not to make noise, and rested his elbows on his raised knees. Clean slate? Erased his memories? How on Earth… no, how in the _universe_ was Dean supposed to help him now? He barely knew the guy, except that he liked burgers, didn’t always understand sarcasm, and that he cared deeply about people he didn’t even know. A quiet snort escaped Dean’s nose and he smirked softly.

He cared deeply about people; humans; beings that weren’t even technically the same species as himself. Castiel had risked himself to help Sam, and by collateral, had helped Dean. Not only in freeing them from that parasite’s influence, but reassured Dean that good things can happen with no expectation of reciprocation. _What a dork_ , he thought, _he always looked either surprised or confused_.

Dean shook his head softly, pushing the memories out of his head to try and think of a plan of action. He definitely needed to find a way to get Castiel back to the blue box, preferably with him carrying his own weight. It was unlikely that Dean would be able to carry the full weight of Castiel, especially if he was dead weight. He also knew that he would need to get in there while Anael was not there, and certainly when that other female was not there.

He stood up and peeked inside again, having heard no noise for the past few moments. Castiel was still lying prone on the mat, but the red haired sister was nowhere to be seen. Suspicious, Dean looked in further, turning his head to get a full view of the house, which was just one room. No one and no sound with the exception of Castiel’s labored breathing.

Dean hopped up into the ledge of the window hole and slid down slowly onto the floor, partially wishing he had not worn boots when they made a soft ‘clack’ as they hit the solid material beneath him. He froze briefly once he heard the sound of his boots and waited to see if anyone would come out. When nothing happened, he released the breath he didn’t realize he’d held onto and stepped forwards, walking on the outside of his feet.

Once he reached Castiel’s form, he knelt down and put his hands on his shoulders, shaking lightly. When nothing happened, Dean growled and shook a little harder. Castiel didn’t move or show any indication that he was aware of being shaken. Blowing out his breath, he put his hands on Castiel’s cheeks, shaking his hands against his skin. Still no reaction.

Surveying the room quickly to make sure he was still alone, Dean looked intently at Castiel’s face and breathed out a quiet ‘sorry’ before slapping him across the face. Eyelashes fluttered and eyelids squeezed shut before flying open.

“Cas!” Dean said, louder than he meant to.

Castiel’s eyes were bleary, but when Dean spoke they narrowed, and his brow wrinkled as Castiel’s gaze examined Dean’s face.

“Wh-“ Castiel started, the sound coming out raspy. He cleared his throat, and tried again, “Who are you?”

Dean felt his shoulders fall, but didn’t move back. “It’s Dean. Dean Winchester, from Earth.”

“I’ve never been to Earth. What are you doing here? Are you human?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I came here on your ship, the big blue box thing.”

“I haven’t used that thing since my formative adolescent years. Why would you have it? How do you know of this!?” Castiel got agitated, and his voice got louder with each question. He pulled himself up into a seated position, his knees at his chest in the most defensive position Dean had ever seen him in.

“Shh.. Cas, calm down. Anael was here with another female, she said she wiped your memory, dude.”

“Anael would never do that.” Castiel’s face was firm and certain, as if the thought of Anael doing such a thing was more preposterous than anything imaginable.

“No, no, no, not Anael, the other one. She sounded very… harsh. And disappointed.” Dean’s voice fell quiet.

Castiel searched his mind. “Ah, that must have been Hester. She’s my… our… mother, of sorts. She…” He fell silent and his face fell forwards, his hands reaching upwards to cup his cheeks and hide his eyes. “She would do something like that. Where is Anael now?”

Dean shrugged, his facial expression clearly depicting that he had no idea. His voice was stuck in his throat, his stomach making knots as he watched the broken expression on Castiel’s face. He reached one hand out, placing it on Castiel’s shoulder. Both of Castiel’s hands dropped to the floor, and he looked up at Dean, his deep blue eyes lost and searching. Dean put one of his hands on top one of Castiel’s limp hands.

“Shortly after you and I met, you did this thing where you put your memories into my head.”

Castiel’s eyes went wide at that. “I shared mind with you? Why?”

“Because you noticed that something was wrong, that there was some parasite thing in my brother’s brain, and I wouldn’t listen to you try to tell me. Anyways, that’s not the point. If you want to know if I am telling you the truth, about everything, why don’t you do the same thing, but like… In reverse?”

“You… you would allow me into the deep corners of your mind?”

“Well yeah, dude. You told me to help you, after you noticed your family was coming to get you.” Dean pulled the scrap of newspaper out of his pocket and showed it to Castiel. “Told me what happened and how to find your ship.”

Castiel reached out and grabbed the piece of paper gingerly between forefinger and thumb, bringing it close enough to be able to read the print.

“It’s just numbers. I don’t see the relevance.”

“Those are coordinates of a place on Earth, in Lawrence, Kansas. This is how you showed me how to find you. They’ll lead anyone who can read them, such as me, to the face of a forest with a few dirt paths running inside, and currently, a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala parked on the side of a road.”

“How do I know you aren’t just trying to lie to me? To manipulate me? Humans lie and steal, that’s what they do.”

“Cas-“

“Stop that, my name is Castiel!”

“Fine, Castiel. Is it even possible to lie if you are looking at my memories, even if I wanted to?”

Castiel went silent and dropped his eyes, looking down at the scrap of newspaper in his hand. “No.”

“Alright then. I got nothing to gain here, man. You helped me because you thought it was the right thing to do. I’m just… returning the favour, or whatever.”

Castiel nodded, and Dean stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Your family knows you’re here in this house, right?” Castiel nodded. “So if we want to be sure they aren’t going to barge in on us, we should…?”

Castiel just looked at him, his eyes blank and his expression lost.

“We should move, we should go somewhere else. So they can’t find us, unless you want them to.”

“Where would we go? There is nothing here, this is an isolated clearing.”

“Remember how I said I got here? Your ship is on the other side of the clearing, waiting for you. It wouldn’t let me back in after I stepped out.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes, the skepticism easy to read. “If my ship is not there, I will know you are up to something.”

“Obviously. Now come on, before Anael comes back.”

Dean went to climb back out the window hole, but Castiel just stood and closed his eyes. Dean turned back and was about to tell him to get moving when a tall door hole materialized between two window holes. Castiel opened his eyes, smiled smugly, and strode out, Dean close behind on his heels.

They made their way across the field, and as they neared where Dean had come from, both men could clearly see the bright blue box against the background of orange and red.

“Alright, Dean, I will give you this one.”

“Thank you,” Dean barked out halfheartedly, not sure whether to laugh or be insulted.

As they approached the box, Dean saw Castiel’s shoulders visibly relax. When Castiel was just one step away from the door, it unlatched and swung open, and Dean did a half jog to stay close enough to Castiel that the door wouldn’t swing shut in his face. Again, as soon as Dean’s feet had cleared the entrance, the door swung shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at artandnerdery


	11. Chapter 11 – Rebuilding What Was Lost

Castiel walked over to the left of the console, and Dean saw a door that he hadn’t noticed before. Reaching out and gripping the door handles, Castiel pulled them open and stepped inside. The entrance to this area was dark, and Dean stopped walking.

“Are you coming, Dean?”

“Yep!” Dean said, shaking his head at himself and walking through the doorway. 

The dark entrance opened into a brightly coloured room, the walls lined with books, papers, binders, and what looked like runes written on large tanned chunks of skin. “Ew.” Dean turned away from the objects that looked like skin and searched the room for Castiel, finding him standing in the middle of the room and had pulled two ornate chairs together so that they faced one another.

As Castiel sat in one, he swung his hand outwards to the other chair, and Dean took the hint. He walked over and sat down, arms on the armrests, fingers fidgeting.

“Are you ready?”

For someone who thought he hadn’t been in this ship since however long ago adolescence was, Castiel certainly seemed right at home, leaning back comfortably in the chair, fingers hanging relaxed off the end of the armrest.

Dean nodded and leaned forwards. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Castiel leaned forwards and placed his hands on Dean’s cheeks, his fingers splayed around Dean’s ears and fingertips brushing the short hair. Suppressing a slight shudder at the familiar touch, he clasped his hands together.

“Let’s do this.”

He felt Castiel nod, and seconds later the familiar freezing heat come through Castiel’s palms and fingertips, delving through his memories. He searched through the most recent memories, playing them out in reverse chronological order.

Dean felt the nausea of the flight to wherever it was that they were now all over again, felt the confusion at finding the ship, watched himself check the interstate to see if any cars were coming. Back, back, further back. Finding the memory of being wrapped up in blue energy, restrained, watching the two females look over Castiel and wrap him up in a woven cocoon. Dean felt Castiel shudder at that memory, a jolt of heat flashing through his temples.

Going back through Sam’s near-death experience was awful, and made Dean’s skin get clammy. His own memories from before that weren’t upsetting, thankfully as he felt his stomach twist at the end of Sam’s mind meld. The rest was just driving and talking, all the way back to where Dean had seen Castiel walking up the road and had stopped to offer him a ride. Expecting Castiel to stop, he relaxed, but he kept looking, instead of through memories now he was searching through emotions.

Dean attempted to speak, but found his voice was stuck as emotions were being drudged up that he had buried long ago. His throat clenched and spasmed as he tried to ignore them, his eyes welling up with tears; tears of joy, of sadness, of loss, of family, of love. 

Castiel stopped digging and pulled back, leaving Dean gasping and trying desperately not to sob. There was no way he was going to cry. He shook his head, forcing the emotions back into their neat little box at the back of his mind. 

“Wh-,” he coughed through the block in his throat, “What the hell was that?”

“What? You said I could look in your mind for validation of your honesty, did you not?”

“Well yeah but-“

“Along with the memories, which were quite sufficient, I wanted a better judge of your character. You… You are a good man, Dean Winchester. You hold much pain inside. I am sorry if I caused you discomfort, I will not do it again.”

Castiel’s face was serious, his eyebrows pinched together in concern. Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s all good man. You’re alright, you know that? Kind of… Nah, never mind. Can you take me home?”

“Of course, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at artandnerdery


	12. Chapter 12 – Cold, Harsh, and Unreal

Dean stood first and headed back towards the console room, Castiel following closely behind. 

A smirk sat on Dean’s face, and he forced himself not to shake his head at how much he liked hearing Castiel say those three words. 

He walked over to the center console and held onto the railing with both hands, bracing for the feeling of hurling through space, which in turn made him want to hurl all over the floor.

Castiel didn’t say a word, but as soon as he reached the console he turned dials and stroked the dash, humming a monotone tune. The sound started again, sounding less grating than when Dean had been alone in the ship. As the volume of the noise increased, the ship began to move, swaying gently as if it was a hammock hanging between two trees on a windy day. 

Dean felt his stomach muscles relax, and he looked over at the figure looming around the console. The trench coat hid most of Castiel’s body posture, so Dean couldn’t assume anything about what he was thinking about. He wondered if there was any way to help Castiel regain his lost memories, or if they were gone for good. Hopefully they could come back. This less personal version of Castiel was oddly stiff and cold.

“So, is it normally smooth like this?”

Castiel looked over at him, his eyebrows pressed together in perplexion.

“Smooth like what?”

“Well… when I got in here and this machine took off to find you, it was really noisy and the movement was really, I dunno, harsh? It felt like I was being tossed through the washing machine on spin cycle, y’know?”

Clarity flashed through Castiel’s eyes and Dean swore his eyes looked nostalgic. But before he could look any closer, Castiel turned away and returned to playing with the dials and knobs on the console. 

“Yes well, that is probably because she was mad.”

Dean balked, both confused and, not that he’d admit it, jealous. “She? Who’s she?”

“My ship is sentient, Dean. How do you think she knew exactly where to find me, and exactly where Earth needed helping? The reason I even found you and your brother was because of my ship.”

Releasing one of his arms from the vice grip around the railing, Dean scratched his head in confusion and the tone of voice Castiel was using did not help. He didn’t like the clinical matter-of-fact tone, and he especially didn’t like the curt dismissal of every word that he was saying.

“Oh, yeah okay. That makes perfect damn sense, space man. It’s not like I got taken for a ride across god-fucking-knows how many galaxies in a box that’s way too big on the inside for reality to ever accept. I certainly didn’t expect that you would basically forget even meeting me, and I certainly didn’t want it to feel like everything in my chest has been ripped open and my mind left ravaged.”

Dean’s voice broke with the last word, and he dropped his head to gaze at the floor. Frustrated tears gathered beneath his closed eyelids and threatened to spill out, revealing all of his secrets. He grabbed the hanging piece of his shirt with his free hand and wiped at his eyes, throat clogged with words that he never wanted to say, never meant to say.

“Dean.” Castiel looked at him, but he refused to look up. Dean shook his head at Castiel’s voice, refusing to even open his eyes. Embarrassment and shame flushed through him and sat in his stomach like a cement block. Dean scolded himself internally. Why did he have to go any explode like that?

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel said more emphatically. “I am sorry that you went through what you did. I do appreciate that you came for me, and I do appreciate that you allowed me access to your memories. There is nothing that I can do to fix what happened, but you did a great thing. I… am in your debt.”

Giving his eyes a last wipe, Dean looked up, pointedly pretending that he was not just almost crying.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever. No big deal, alright? Don’t get all emotional on me.”

Castiel said nothing and returned to fiddling with the controls and looking at the display screen. Moments later, a boom clattered through the room and the ship shuddered to a stop. Dean looked around, his face a little bit green and his stomach more than a little bit queasy. He saw Castiel walking away from the console and towards the door to outside, so he forced his arm to relax and straightened his posture, shaking his arm to bring blood circulation back into his fingertips.

“You’re welcome, ya blue eyed jerk,” Dean muttered, a delayed response that he kept under his breath. He followed Castiel, who had pulled open the door to reveal that they were…

…back in the forest where Dean had found the ship in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at artandnerdery


	13. Chapter 13 – A Safe Return, Maybe

“Whoa, that’s some freaky shit.”

Castiel stepped to the side and let Dean walk out the door, mouth wide open and eyes gazing upwards. He spun around slowly, taking in how absolutely the same everything looked, before bringing his sight back down to the ground. Specifically, towards the stiff man who stood just beside his big blue box, his face virtually expressionless as he watched Dean.

“Ahem…” Dean cleared his throat. “Thanks.” 

He stepped back towards Castiel, the stoic man’s blue eyes twitching back and forth as Dean neared, uncertain and switching between looking at Dean’s face and the forest behind him.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said, voice breathy as he tried not to let his body touch Dean’s despite the close proximity and the fact that Dean kept moving forward into his space.

A deep inhale and an exhale that came out as a caricature of a laugh, Castiel brought his gaze directly into Dean’s bright green eyes.

“What are-“ Castiel began, before Dean closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Castiel’s effectively cutting of the question. Dean’s eyes swam with a flood of tears as he pressed his soft lips against the chapped ones of the man caught off guard.

Castiel’s eyes opened wide in shock, but a warm haze flooded through his body, bathing his nerves in recollection and suddenly… Suddenly he remembered! Actually remembered. Remembered the soft smile that sat on Dean’s face as he spoke casually with his brother, remembered the clean white socks and Metallica and the crushing hug of thanks despite the anger Dean had felt before.

His entire being thrummed with a warm orange glow, and he raised both of his hands to cup Dean’s face tenderly as everything came rushing back to him. The effects of his mother’s memory block effectively obliterated by the smooth pressure of Dean’s lips against his. Castiel felt the calloused texture of Dean’s palms against the skin of his wrists, and he pulled back from the kiss.

“Dean,” the word came out as a promise and a greeting. The weight of it hung in the air between them, and Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes, searching.

“Cas?”

“Yeah.”

“Whoa. Um. Yeah.”

Castiel chuckled, both at his own lack of words, and of Dean’s speechlessness.

“What happened? You didn’t even…” Dean’s voice cracked, and he shook his head to clear the emotion away.

“You reminded me.”

“Oh. Wow. Um, okay, well. Maybe we sho-“

Castiel moved forward again, and pressed his lips against Dean’s. Just a quick, tender kiss. A thank you.

“Come on, Dean. We should go check on Sam.”

Dean blinked as Castiel pulled away, his hands dropping to his sides as Castiel released his face with a tender stroke. Standing stock still as Castiel turned and locked his ship, stroking the door panel gently before turning back to Dean and grabbing his hand.

“Come on.”

They fought through the overgrowth, neither willing to release the hand of the other. They eventually made it out of the forest and back to the interstate, where the impala, Dean’s pride and joy, sat waiting.

“No ticket, sweet!” Dean said, pumping his fist in triumph.

“Of course not, Dean,” Castiel said smoothly as he walked over to the passenger door, swinging it open, “No time has passed from when you entered the forest.”

Dean looked at him incredulously as both of them slid into their seats. Digging into his pocket for the key, he said, “What do you mean, no time has passed? Loads of time has passed! I’m surprised she didn’t get towed!”

As Dean pushed the key into the ignition and moved the shifter into ‘drive’, glaring down at it when it stuck multiple times, Castiel explained.

“When I was inputting the data for our destination, being here in Lawrence, on Earth, I made sure to make it so that we arrived at exactly the same time and date that you had left, give or take a few seconds. I know that Sam had reacted badly from his experience, and I didn’t want to cause him undue stress, which would have happened if he had woken up and both of us were gone without a trace and without a hint as to where either of us were.”

“Oh,” Dean said, shaking his head, “That’s pretty impressive. Not to mention, you’re a way better pilot than I am apparently.”

Castiel chuckled, placing his left hand on top of Dean’s as he held the shifter. “Two parts practice, one part, she doesn’t like you.”

“What did I do?” Dean’s voice came out higher pitched than he had intended.

“I already told you. You lost me. She’s very attached.”

“Apparently!”

They bantered, and Dean felt like he could almost completely forget that he had basically spewed his emotional guts all over the floor of Castiel’s ship. He hoped that Castiel would never bring it up. Kissing and holding hands was one thing, but emotional diatribes like that one should be reserved for soap operas.

Pulling up the long drive way, Dean looked inside the house as best he could as they neared, hoping to see if Sam was up. What he saw was definitely not Sam, and the front of the house barely looked the same. There were flowers growing out front, with a vine trellis full of ivy leaves climbing up the side of the house all the way to the roof.

There was also another car in the driveway, one that Dean did not recognize.

“Um, Cas.”

“We’re here Dean. It’s alright, he’ll be fine.”

“Cas!”

“Yes Dean?” His voice littered with confusion at Dean’s harsh, insistent tone.

“Something’s wrong. That ain’t my house, and that ain’t my car. What the hell?”

Castiel didn’t speak, his face betraying the concern that he felt with each passing moment. He went to speak a number of times before stopping himself. Finally, he spoke, but the words were not reassuring.

“Bring us to town, let’s find a newspaper.”

“What?”

“Just do it Dean, please.”

Dean sighed exaggeratedly, an uncomfortable feeling sitting at the base of his stomach, and increasing in size and severity with each passing moment. He drove back down the driveway and out onto the streets, pulling into the parking lot of a convenience store.

Before they even got out of the car, Dean noticed an incredibly large number of white posters plastered all over the windows and the telephones poles, each one with huge red letters reading “MISSING” and a picture of someone’s face. He looked over at Castiel, his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down into a frown.

“What the hell.”

He got out of the car, Castiel following suit, and approached the nearest telephone pole, looking to see whose face was pasted all over. As he approached, his stomach dropped even further as his knees got weak, as the details became clearer and he realized whose face it was.

His.

He was missing? How was that possible? He had only been gone for…

His gaze fell upon the newspaper dispenser right next to the telephone pole and read the date. Tuesday April 15th 2014\. Twenty fourteen. His legs buckled and he nearly collapsed, except that Castiel caught him.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Castiel’s eyes looked directly into his, furrowed brow and pained concern plastered across his face.

“It’s not the same day we left, Cas. It’s not the same day at all. Look.” He pointed at the newspaper, his eyes barely able to stay away from the picture of his face on the missing poster. Pulling himself away from Cas’ grip, he looked closer at the poster as Castiel inspected the newspaper.

“If you see him, please call Sam Winchester at Stanford University (650-723-2300 ext 55532)”

“Jesus FUCK,” Dean screamed out. He stormed back to the car and got in, Castiel hot on his heels and speechless. “I am going back to MY house and asking where MY stuff is. Then YOU are going to fix this!”

“I c-“

“Don’t say you can’t. Do not say that. There is no way that I am letting Sam go through that entire year without knowing where I am or being able to help him through the crap he went through. There is-“ He broke into sobs and beat his fist against the steering wheel.

“Why don’t you call him?”

“No. No we’re going to see him. Buckle up, it’s going to be a long drive.”

“Dean.”

“No.”

“Dean!”

“What?” Dean’s voice was uneven, his cheeks wet and his face red with anger and frustration.

“Why don’t we fly? My ship can-“

“Your ship got us into this shit hole. I am not risking losing another year of time with my brother because you didn’t calibrate something properly. It is not happening.”

“Very well,” Castiel conceded, raising both hands up in defeat before doing up his seatbelt. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at artandnerdery


	14. Chapter 14 – So Lost And So Found

Dean cranked the music up, angry at himself, angry at Castiel, angry at the universe. He drove without speaking, without even singing along to the music that rattled through the car with each bass line. Each time he stopped for gas, he kicked the tires and still refused to speak. Castiel didn’t even try to instigate a conversation, feeling both guilty and at fault, but sat in the passenger seat quietly, eating when Dean tossed convenience store snacks in his direction.

As the sun fell and the roads got dark, Dean continued to drive. His eyes less angry, the bags beneath them so deeply ingrained they looked as if they had been chiseled into rock.

“Dean, we should find somewhere for you to rest.”

“No… Gotta get to Sammy…” His voice betrayed his exhaustion.

“If we crash because you fell asleep, you’re never going to get to Sam. Please, let’s just find somewhere.”

The next city was Denver, and Dean took the off-ramp and followed the signs towards the closest motel. It was nothing fancy, but it looked clean. Dean got out of the car to register them a room, and Castiel waited in the car for him to return. A knock on the window caught him off guard and startled him, before Dean pulled the door open for him.

Climbing out, he pulled his trench coat around himself, trying to keep the chill that was in the air away from his skin. He followed Dean towards the motel, heading away from the office and towards one of the many identical doors only distinguishable by the numbers nailed into them.

Dean unlocked the door to room 12, and left the door wide open as he walked forward in a haze of physical and emotional exhaustion. 

Castiel entered the room and closed the door behind himself, turning the deadbolt before looking back at Dean. Dean, who had crawled up to rest his head on the pillows, laying on top of the blankets, his boots still tied to his feet. Dean, whose eyes were shut and whose mouth was open slightly and who was breathing the deep breaths of someone who had just collapsed and passed out.

Castiel removed his trench coat and hung it on the back of the one chair in the room before moving over to where Dean’s feet hung off the end of the bed. He untied the sleeping man’s boots and slid them off, placing them neatly next to the bed. He considered trying to find a way to get him beneath the covers, but opted instead to pick his trench coat back up and draping it over Dean as a makeshift blanket.

He leaned down as he pulled the collar of the coat up to Dean’s neck and placed a tender kiss on his temple. Dean shifted slightly, but did not wake up, and Castiel walked over to the other bed and sat down. Removing his own boots, he threw himself back onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

Castiel had messed up really bad this time, had taken an entire year away from someone he cared about in increasing amounts, and he had no way to fix it. There was no way to fix it. He couldn’t go back on his own timeline without creating a paradox, and if his family had found it easy to find him that time, a paradox would be like throwing a piece of coal out the window on the diamond planet and thinking no one would notice.

He pounded his fist against the mattress, the silent impact having no effect on improving his mood or releasing his frustration. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to create a solution to this impossible problem. An idea struck him. It wasn’t perfect, but it might help. Hopefully.

Sitting up, he reached over and pulled the phone on the small table between the beds closer to him. He pulled one of the missing posters out from his pocket, folded so that the number for Sam was all he could see. He lifted the receiver and dialed the number. It rang once… twice… thr-

Click.

“Hello?” Sam’s voice rang across the phone line. It sounded rougher, harsher somehow, but Castiel knew that it was Sam.

“Sam, it’s Castiel.”

“Fuck off.”

The phone line went dead in his ear, so he pressed the button to hang up and dialed again. It only rang once before Sam’s voice growled through the receiver.

“What do you want?”

“Dean is with me.”

“If you’re fucking with me, I swear-“

“I’m not, I promise you. He’s asleep right now, he was exhausted. We’re driving up to find you. He’s distraught. Sam, I...” The silence on the other end hung heavy in his heart, “I’m so sorry.”

“Where are you?”

“The DoubleTree inn in Denver, off the 87. Room 12.”

“Stay there. I’m… If you’re not there when I get there, I will never _ever_ forgive you.”

“Okay Sam. Please hurry.”

“Just booked a flight, I should be at the Denver airport in four hours. Four and a half, tops. Stay. There.” The command in Sam’s voice stopped any placations that were going to come out of Castiel’s mouth. The phone line went dead again, and Castiel replaced the receiver, falling back to rest his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at artandnerdery


	15. Chapter 15 – Reunions Aren’t Always Roses

The sound of a fist banging against the door startled Castiel into a hazy wakefulness and he looked over at the bed next to his. Dean was still asleep, though he tossed and turned at the loud noise that echoed through their small motel room.

Castiel stood and strode over to the door, opening it to see Sam’s face, the bags under his eyes easily able to compete with those that had been under Dean’s.

He stepped quickly out of the way as Sam walked into the room before the door was even opened fully.

“Come in, Sam. He’s right there,” Castiel held out his arm in Dean’s direction, where the man still slept, his breathing on the verge of snoring.

“You, out here. Now.”

Castiel nodded and grabbed the key that was sitting on the small desk next to the door and shoved it in his pants pocket. He stepped out of the room, pulling the door shut slowly and hearing the latch click before turning to face Sam.

Sam looked him square in the eyes, his own eyes full of rage and fury and wrath and… sadness. He turned abruptly and walked away, towards the end of the building and near a small grass field beside the motel’s line of rooms. Castiel followed, hoping there was no broken glass for him to step on, his socks picking up small twigs and dirt with each step.

As soon as they reached the grass, Sam turned back to face him, hands clenched into fists.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Where have you been? I woke up after, I don’t even know what actually happened because I’m pretty sure it was so traumatic that my entire brain shut it out, and the house was empty. The car was gone. Gone. I figured… I figured maybe Dean had went to buy groceries and brought you with so you’d have some food or something while you stayed with us… And then day turned into night, and then morning, and nothing. Not a peep. I was…” His anger ebbed slightly and tears erupted from his bright red eyes and coated his cheeks.

Castiel stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around the tall, hunched figure of the man he had left behind. The guilt sat in his stomach so heavily he thought he would collapse, but he didn’t. He just held Sam and let him cry and sob and beat his fists against Castiel’s sides.

“Sam, I am so sorry. I did not mean for this to happen. But Dean is safe, and he nearly lost it when he realized what day we… what day it was. Please, come stay in the room. He should be awake soon, the sun looks as though it’s starting to rise.”

Sam just nodded and wiped his cheeks with the backs of his hands. He continued to try and dry his face and eyes as they entered the room where Dean was just beginning to wake up.

“Whuh… Sammy?” Dean’s voice was rough with the barely restful sleep he was trying to push away. He pushed himself into a seated position just as Sam threw his arms around Dean and they collapsed onto the bed.

“I was so fucking scared. I was so fucking scared and you weren’t there and…”

“It’s okay Sammy. I’m here now. I will never leave you behind again.” He wrapped his arms around his brother, hands in tight fists, and held on even after Sam tried to stand back up.

“Dean, Dean, let go you asshole. Let _go_!”

After Sam slapped his arms a few times, Dean eventually released his grip and they both sat up. Castiel stood awkwardly by the door, the guilt in his stomach easing with each passing moment that the brothers remained together. He watched as Dean’s fear bled from his face and was replaced with relief. He observed Sam’s tense shoulders ease and his posture relax. He was grateful that they had been brought back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at artandnerdery


	16. Chapter 16 – A New Twist on an Old Adventure

“Cas, get over here,” Dean called him, affection back in his voice, though coated beneath a layer of sleep and a gruffness that Castiel didn’t quite understand.

He walked over, and stood next to the bed, between where the brothers both sat.

“I want to go back.”

“Go back where, Dean?” The expression on Castiel’s face was just as confused and lost as that on Sam’s.

“Back out there,” he pointed towards the sky and moved his arm slowly in a circular motion, “I want to see it all.”

“You mean… Travel? I thought you’d…”

“Shut up.”

Sam piped in, “What the hell are you guys talking about? We don’t even have a home anymore, where do you think you’re going?”

“Sammy can come too, right?”

Castiel looked incredulously at Dean. Was he seriously asking what Castiel thought he was asking? He shrugged a little, trying to process everything that had just happened.

“I suppose, but…”

Dean stood up, the cheerful smile almost fully back on his face, and wrapped his arms around Castiel’s shoulders. Blue eyes found green, and curiosity and adventure was all he could read within the depths of Dean’s bright and vivid expression. 

Dean closed his eyes and leaned forward to press his lips against Castiel’s, who closed his own eyes in short order with the feel of Dean’s smooth mouth against his.

“Ew, guys, really? I’m right fucking here!” Sam screeched, moving backwards on the bed until he almost fell off the other side.

The two of them split apart, Dean cracking into laughter and Castiel’s face a stone wall of confusion. What had he just agreed to? Why did his mind always go fuzzy and lax after Dean touched him? He shook his head, and looked at Dean just as the other man stood up and looked at him.

“Come on, Cas. We gotta get back to Lawrence. There’s a ship waiting for you, and an adventure that no one could ever imagine before us.”

“You guys are so weird, I have school!”

“Sammy, are you seriously telling me that you don’t want to travel through space and time? Seriously?”

Curiosity sparkled in Sam’s hazel eyes, and the conflict he was going through was plastered across his face. Castiel watched as Dean grabbed his hand and headed out the door, leaving it open and walking over to the office. He dropped the key on the desk, startling the guy behind it, and strode back out, not loosening his grip of Castiel’s hand until they got back to the impala. Sam stood next to it, ready to open the passenger side door.

As soon as they all got in, Castiel having navigated himself to the back seat before Sam pushed the seat back and climbed in. His face still showed that he was processing everything, and eventually he spoke.

“Time and space? Like… Star Trek?”

Dean laughed. “Yeah Sammy, like Star Trek. Only no Klingons, right?” He looked back at Castiel.

“Uh, no?” Castiel answered.

“I swear to god and all that is unholy, if I catch you guys smooching in front of me again, I will throw something.”

Dean’s face lit up, and Castiel’s followed suit.

“Is that a yes?”

“Obviously, you nerd.”

“Oh, I’m the nerd? Mister, there’s no Klingons, right?” 

Dean laughed, and Castiel relaxed in the backseat of the car as they got back on the interstate, this time heading towards Kansas.

His family might still come looking for him, and there were always dangerous entities and beings out in the universe. But knowing that he had Dean, and that Dean had Sam, made him feel more comfortable and ready to face anything.

The Impala growled loudly as they sped up the interstate, pushing the speed limit. The music was blaring loudly over the engine, and both brothers were singing along, though not loud enough to be heard. 

Castiel looked at Dean, fondness and affection rolling over him, and he felt his entire spine relax fully. The energy still hummed, ready to be thrust out like a dozen semi-corporeal arms, but the icy fire stayed within his skin, and Castiel smiled. Finally, this is what it felt like to have control over the energy without forcing. 

Finally, he was really ready for whatever the universe might throw at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at artandnerdery


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